Where once an oak is

Where once an oak is... Where once an oak is... now a tallow tree before this winding road a sharper curve the pungent tar that paved the patchwork years and now the yellow streaks are slowing still. I see the picket fences are the same the woven crosses carry only loss even through decay, I can pick my teeth as if I want that sharpness in my bones- to haunt the times of when I hungered most to be the times my will was stronger yet. I hear my mother call me as I crept the withered oak to dance on edge of wall I wavered back and forth on hinging wind the tinge of guilt my frame could not support. I'd been as sullen, slow, but yet survived the summers heat; the winters gnawing pang to wanderlust my way from oak to street and find the path was winding to obey. Had might I've lied myself into a sleep the way is short but still the road is long I watch the cars pathetically return for as their ends were lined with cul-de-sacs. I once was on the track they both are now two different forces looking for a crash as now I wish to pick my teeth of meat I sit and think of times I hungered most. My mother was a cross some years ago and I was left with no direction home my father woven to her not too long and I was left with nothing but this street. A Chinese tallow tree where once an oak and now a sweet gum stands before my eyes as weeping willows shade my mourning walk I do not feel as hungry as I've been- To seldom see a car or smiling face I think I'm sated `cause I walk this road to see the empty houses full of life. Written March 12th, 2002 © on Mar 12 2002 12:55 PM PST   0 • 10